The Benefits of Rigid Thinking
by Mariole
Summary: Kirk is directed to return some stolen artifacts to New Vulcan— but of course nothing goes smoothly where Vulcans are concerned. This story is a sequel to "The Benefits of Fresh Air".
1. Treasures

This story is a slightly more serious sequel to my playful and teasing romp, "The Benefits of Fresh Air". It focuses on Kirk and Spock's developing relationship, with Spock and Uhura in an established relationship (just like the movie!). This story could be read as a stand-alone, but you'll catch more of the nuances if you read the prequel first. The sequel provides the answers to those of you who wanted to find out what this _kashek-shoret wak_ was all about. Enjoy!

* * *

_Captain's log, Stardate 2258.169_. The_ Enterprise_ is on course for New Vulcan, scheduled to arrive in two days time. Morale remains high after Commander Spock's return. With Mr. Spock and Mr. Scott's cooperation, we staged a battle exercise for the crew yesterday, the results of which earned the _Enterprise_ crew an efficiency rating of 96.8%. I look forward to Starfleet command reviewing these results. Green as most of this crew is, I believe we're ready for what awaits us. I can't think of a finer set of officers or crew that I could be serving with anywhere. Universe, bring it on!

* * *

Off-duty at last, Jim went hunting for Mr. Spock. If Uhura were missing as well, Jim would have assumed that she and their resident Vulcan were sequestered for some extended toning exercises. But he'd left the comely communications officer on the bridge with two hours still to go on her shift. Jim tried all the usual haunts: cabin, science lab, gym, mess. No sign of Spock. Then a brainwave struck, and he headed toward the cargo holds in the bottom of the ship.

A pair of sentries was standing guard, per Jim's order. He'd felt it only fitting, considering the importance of their cargo. One guard perhaps would have sufficed, but Jim wouldn't condemn one man to spend an entire shift alone down here with nothing to do. A partner at least gave the guards someone to talk to while on a tedious honor shift.

As Jim rounded the corner, the pair snapped to attention. Their formality and the fact they _hadn't_ been talking told Jim all he needed to know, but he asked the closest guard, Jeffries, anyway.

"Is he inside?"

Jeffries, with a chiseled face that could have come straight from a Starfleet recruitment poster, answered, "Yes, sir."

"Thank you."

Jeffries stepped back, while his partner entered the passcode on the security plate. The door swished open. Jim nodded and stepped inside.

Were it not for the smooth walls, now visible only in glimpses through the clutter, Jim wouldn't have known he was on a starship. It was more like stepping into the crowded storehouse of a museum. And what a collection it was. Tall, carved statues of stone loomed over him, the fierce faces of their likenesses frowning down at him. Even their scent was wild; a harsh, musky blend of sharp odors and keen winds that must have been embedded into the very stone by centuries of uncompromising Vulcan weather.

Among the larger items were tapestries, lamps, jeweled ornaments and beguiling tools for purposes Jim couldn't begin to fathom, closely packed and padded with extra material to spare them any jolts, should the _Enterprise_ have to make any sudden course corrections. Some of these treasures had been partially unpacked, the crates opened or the wadding pulled back to reveal the article inside. Jim followed the trail through the winding maze of what was now perhaps the biggest collection of Vulcan artifacts that remained in the universe. The reflection gave him a pang.

He found Spock standing beneath some menacing stone giant that was frozen in the act of hurling an _ahn-woon_ toward some unseen foe. Spock looked up as his captain approached, and it gave Jim a start to see how much his First Officer resembled the legendary figure towering above him, right down to the shape of his body and the collected but determined look on his face.

Jim stopped near him. "I thought I might find you here."

Spock nodded. "Captain."

They spoke quietly, as if in a place of worship. For Spock, Jim supposed, this priceless collection, rescued from pirates, must be the equivalent of a temple.

Spock drew his finger across the base of the stone warrior above him, trailing a crack of stone with his touch. "This is Vulcan."

"It is," Jim agreed. "I'm glad you had a chance to see all this before we delivered it to the colony."

"I am not referring to the objects themselves." Spock turned, and held out his forefinger to Jim. A fine coating of reddish sand dusted his skin.

"_This_ is Vulcan." Spock's thumb slowly closed over his fingertip; gently, he rubbed the grit between his fingers. "For six centuries, Survok stood in the hot winds beneath the towering cliffs of Vulcan's Forge. Forty-seven years ago, he disappeared. We long assumed that those who stole him dared not bring him to light for fear of retribution, but it seems that recent events made his captors so bold as to empty their stores, believing that now they could name their price. But Survok has done his duty well, and has guarded and preserved— this." Spock looked at the film on his fingertip in wonder. "This dust is part of my homeworld, all that now remains. This is Vulcan in its purest form— this sand that sifts from my fingers to fall upon the floor."

Jim followed the half-Vulcan's gaze, watching the drift of fine grains float to the cargo-bay floor, where they could hardly be seen in the gloom. Jim's throat grew tight. "I'm sorry."

Spock merely nodded, then looked up toward the statue's face. So alike were they, Jim thought they could have been brothers, this Vulcan hero from the past and the stern commander of the _Enterprise_.

Jim's original intent of asking his First Officer for a game of 3D chess was humbled into oblivion; such distractions seemed sheer triviality compared to the enormity of what he was seeing, what Spock must be feeling. He struggled to compose himself. "We should cover that with sheeting before we beam it down. Every grain of sand has a value; we don't want to lose any of it."

Spock looked at him with eyes that were worlds away. "Thank you, Captain."

Jim nodded. "Mr. Spock." He turned to wind his way back through the columns of the new and immensely old, filled with history and memory; relics beyond price.

Spock's voice halted him. "Was there something you wanted, Captain?"

Jim turned toward his First Officer, fighting hard to suppress the stinging in his eyes. "If I had what I wanted, Mr. Spock, you and Survok would both be standing safely at home right now."

Something crossed the space between them; a gleam of understanding like the flicker of a knife. Spock still stood unmoving, but now he seemed a fraction less remote.

"Carry on, Mr. Spock. I can think of no better way for you to spend your time than cataloging and appreciating these treasures. Consider this your regular assignment until we arrive at New Vulcan."

His officer's voice was harsh. "Thank you, Captain."

Jim walked quickly toward the entrance, keen to leave Spock alone with the immensity of the Vulcan disaster— made even more poignant by the confined space of the cargo bay. This was it, all that Spock had left— this pittance from the past.

Jim stepped through the door, the statues boring their stony gaze into his back.


	2. First Hurdle

Jim's nervousness increased as they approached New Vulcan. Vulcans made him nervous. He supposed he had a right to be nervous; after all, Spock had made perfectly clear what he thought about Kirk's insults back on the first day they'd met, at the expense of Jim's throat. But Vulcans could be really cool, too—like Spock was after he got older. Maybe Jim only liked older half-Vulcans; maybe that was the problem.

Jim cast a glance at the current timeline's Spock, manning the scanner at his science station. He wondered when the coolness factor would start to kick in. True, young Spock was a lot more relaxed after his vacation. But he still was an amazingly uptight individual. He didn't seem to "do" friendship. It seemed that, whenever Jim made an overture, Spock used it as an opportunity to prove just how emotionless he could be. He had a lot of personal demons to settle, that guy. Maybe he'd loosen up a little after the dust from his recent upheavals settled. Jim hoped so.

"Entering visual range," Sulu reported from the helm.

"Thank you, Mr. Sulu." Jim turned in his chair towards the rear of the bridge. "We're visual, Mr. Spock."

Spock did not take his gaze from the scanner. "Thank you, Captain."

Huh. Not even a glance at the forward screen. Clearly, Spock was using the approach to New Vulcan as yet another opportunity to prove that he didn't get excited about anything. _This_ was the reason so many humans found Vulcans so frustrating. Well, Jim wasn't going to fall for it. He turned back around, determined not to let his First Officer's behavior get to him.

"Magnification four, Mr. Chekov."

"Magnification four," the navigator responded.

The dot resolved itself into a disk. The planet was tanner than Vulcan had been, with more brown and less red. It also had a lot more blue. Kirk knew that the oceans were nearly as salty as the Dead Sea back on Earth, but he couldn't help thinking that a planet with more available surface water had to be a gain.

"It looks... suitable," Uhura said from her station.

"It was the best that could be adapted within the allotted time," Spock replied, still not looking up. "There are noticeable differences in the composition of the atmosphere and proportion of landmass to water. The gravity, however, is nearly exact."

"That had to be the most important factor, then, as the other aspects can be modified over time—can't they?"

"Correct. The terraforming process will take some effort, but I believe it is an achievable goal."

Jim noticed how Uhura had avoided making any emotional observations—probably out of deference to Spock's mood. And what a strange mood it was. Although he _looked_ relaxed—well, about as relaxed as Spock normally got—Jim sensed an increasing tension that hadn't been present earlier in his shift. Determined to barrel right in where angels fear to tread, he asked, "Are you planning to meet with anyone on the planet's surface, Mr. Spock?"

Those scanner readouts must have been really absorbing. Spock said (gaze fixed on his equipment), "I have made no arrangements to beam down."

"Shouldn't you? I mean, this _kashek-shoret wak_ thing is going on, right? Shouldn't you be a part of that?"

"If they had wished my attendance, I would have been notified."

Jim furrowed his brows. Was Spock being slighted? Was that the reason for his curious behavior? "I wasn't aware that the _kashek-shoret wak_ was an invitation-only event."

Spock went still for the briefest of moments. Yet his response, when he answered, was in the same measured tones. "It is not 'invitation-only'."

"Then why don't you put in an appearance? It would only be polite. We can easily wait for you while you pop down there and say hello."

"I do not believe 'popping' would be an appropriate behavior on this occasion. Some other time would be more suitable for a visit to New Vulcan."

The notion of Spock visiting New Vulcan was a disturbing one on several levels. First and foremost was the worry that Spock would decide that his duty to his people outweighed his duty to Starfleet, and Jim would be out his most valuable officer. Also, Jim couldn't help wondering whether Old Spock would be in attendance. He supposed he probably would be. But the elder Spock was a canny old gent; he would learn about the _Enterprise_'s arrival, and make himself scarce to avoid running into his counterpart in this timeline.

But neither of these concerns carried any real weight. Jim was actually more concerned about Spock's shrinking family. He decided to come right out and say it. "Would you like to contact your dad? This might be your only chance to give him a personal farewell before we head off to parts unknown."

"My father is perfectly capable of reaching me through subspace channels if communication is desired, Captain."

"All right. It was just a suggestion." Kirk let his command chair spin back around to face forward. He found Sulu sending him an amused glance over his shoulder. Kirk barely lifted a shoulder in response. Grinning, the helmsman looked away. Kirk shook his head, not sure if he'd ever understand Vulcans and their enigmatic ways.

Uhura spoke quietly from her station. "I have the beacon, sir."

Jim straightened up, shaking off his mood. "Great. Let's hear it."

Uhura did something, and the mechanical voice of a female Vulcan filled the bridge.

"_Enterprise_. Welcome to New Vulcan. Your assistance in returning the stolen artifacts is appreciated."

"It's our pleasure, New Vulcan."

"We are transmitting the coordinates of our secure storage area. Signal us when you are ready to beam down the articles, and we will lower the force field. We appreciate your cooperation. Space Central, out."

The audio connection dropped.

"Short and sweet," Jim observed aloud. Then, perversely drawn toward needling the impassive Spock, he added, "Very efficient."

Needless to say, Spock did not respond.

"Coordinates received," Chekov reported.

"Fine. Plot a synchronous orbit."

"Aye, sir."

Jim looked back at Uhura. "Signal our compliance, Lieutenant."

Uhura shook her head. "They closed the channel, sir."

Jim frowned. "That's odd."

"They did tell us earlier that they wanted to handle all transactions remotely," Uhura reminded him.

"We're 30,000 kilometers above their atmosphere. That's pretty damn remote."

Uhura gave him an arch look that clearly meant, _You know Vulcans_. Unfortunately, Jim didn't feel he knew them at all. There was logic and efficiency, but there was also Spock's tension. It was odd, and he wanted to probe a little more deeply into that, for Spock's sake.

"Can you get them back?"

"I'll try, sir."

"Captain," Spock's soft voice interjected. Jim turned his way, to find his First Officer actually looking at him over the top of the scanner. "There is little to be gained by reestablishing contact with New Vulcan."

"Spock, every spaceport in the Federation maintains an open channel during orbital approach."

"I am certain the ground station is tracking our approach."

"But I don't want to reestablish contact just for that. I want to—" Jim waved vaguely. "You know, tell them what we've got! How much room they'll need, and what kind of artifacts we'll be transferring down, and so on."

"I am confident that the personnel at the storage facility have already calculated the holding capacity of the _Enterprise'_s cargo bay."

"But, your catalog— your handling instructions for some of the more delicate items..."

"With your permission, Captain, I will relay that information now."

"This isn't about _information_, Spock. It's about common courtesy."

Spock was giving him that look—that, W_hat illogical human thing are you doing now?_ look. Jim hated that look. It made him feel stupid, and Jim wasn't stupid. Why were Vulcans always trying to make him feel stupid?

To his relief, Uhura interrupted. "I have Space Central, Captain."

"Great." Jim put up a hand toward Spock, indicating that the conversation wasn't finished. "New Vulcan!" Jim announced loudly, as he didn't know the name of the person he was addressing. "We have many rare artifacts in our possession. My First Officer has spent the last several days preparing these items for safe transport. I think you could benefit from hearing his recommendations."

There was a pause. "Your First Officer... Is Commander Spock aboard?"

"Yes. He's gone through everything and—"

"We had understood from your last communication that Commander Spock was on extended leave."

"He was, but he's back now, and he's got some information I really think you ought to consider." There was no response. "Hello? Space Central?"

Uhura reported from her station, "Transmission dropped, sir."

"_What?_" Jim's brows came down. "Now, that's just rude! Get her back."

Uhura jumped to it. "Working."

"Captain," Spock said softly.

"_What?_" Jim hadn't meant to sound so exasperated. He immediately softened his tone. "I'm sorry, Mr. Spock. What is it?"

"Personal communication would not be optimum at this time."

"Why?"

Spock hesitated. "It is important to minimize disruptive influences during _kashek-shoret wak_."

"You know what, Spock? I don't give two hoots about your _kashek-shoret wak._ No matter what's going on, they can still be civil. And my First Officer is _not_ a disruptive influence!" Everyone on the bridge stared at him. "Usually, I mean."

"Sir," Spock began again.

Uhura interrupted at almost the same moment. "Captain." She flicked Spock an apologetic look. "I have Space Central again."

Jim wasted no time. "This is James T. Kirk aboard the starship _Enterprise_," he said loudly. "Who are you?"

"I am Stimm."

Jim blinked, surprised by the masculine tone. What had happened to the rude chick?

No matter. He regrouped and went on. "Stimm. We are carrying a shipment of irreplaceable Vulcan artifacts. My First Officer has amassed valuable information regarding the safe handling of these precious objects. I ask that you allow him to complete his assignment, and be allowed to supervise the offloading of our priceless cargo."

To his surprise, Stimm didn't answer directly, but merely said, "Spock," in a commanding tone.

"Is it safe for me to speak?" Spock replied, to Jim's growing amazement.

"Yes. Do you have the information?"

"I have prepared a file, ready for transmission."

"I will receive it."

"Understood." Spock looked at Jim. "Captain?"

Jim had been taken off guard by the Vulcan back and forth. _Safe to speak?_ What the hell was that all about? "Yes?"

Spock nodded at his station. "May I transmit the file containing my handling instructions to New Vulcan?"

Jim chewed that over, then said firmly to the disembodied voice, "Stimm, I request that my First Officer be allowed to _personally_ supervise the transport of cargo."

From the corner of his eye, Jim saw Spock stiffen.

"That would not be advisable," Stimm replied.

"Why not?"

"Personal communication would not be optimum at this time."

Jim started. What _was_ it with these guys? Did all Vulcans go to the same phraseology school?

"Captain," the Vulcan spokesman continued, "the _Enterprise_ agreed to handle this transaction remotely. We respectfully ask that you fulfill your part of the bargain."

"You didn't _ask_ me," Jim argued. "You _told_ me. And _I'm_ telling you that my First Officer has spent significant time going through these artifacts, and only he can best assure their safe arrival."

Spock said softly—but loud enough for Space Central to hear, "Captain, sufficient information does exist in my detailed notes—"

"Your detailed notes are not the issue, Spock!" Jim addressed his next remark to the comm. "Listen, Stimm. I can understand why you don't want a flock of clueless humans stumbling through your _kashek-shoret wak_, but what's wrong with Spock? _He_ understands what's going on—even if he won't tell us about it."

"Captain Kirk," said Stimm grimly, "under no circumstances are you to permit Commander Spock to beam down. If you do, we will be forced to take measures."


	3. Outworlder

At Stimm's threat, all movement on the bridge stilled. Jim felt as if the breath had been knocked out of his body; judging from the shocked expressions of his crew, everyone else on the bridge felt the same.

Jim collected himself enough to speak. "What kind of measures?"

"Those appropriate to the transgression, of course."

Jim was completely mystified. "Why don't you want Spock, specifically, to beam down?"

"It is _kashek-shoret wak_. We are vulnerable."

Jim looked over shoulder, to find Spock standing stony faced beside his station, hands clasped rigidly behind his back. Obviously Spock and Stimm had a common understanding of the situation that eluded Jim. Looking at Spock (as Space Central had still not activated their viewer), Jim said, "What do you mean by 'vulnerable'?"

"I should have thought the meaning of the word was clear," Stimm answered dryly.

"Well, it's not clear to _me_. I can't see how Spock's presence would be in any way disruptive. Spock is Vulcan—well, _half_-Vulcan, anyway."

"That is precisely why he must not beam down."

Jim growled and rubbed his face. "Look, Stimm..." He barely reined in his annoyance. "Can you activate your viewer? I'm sick of talking to the ceiling."

There was a pause, then Stimm's image appeared on the main viewscreen. Jim was surprised; Stimm was an older Vulcan, old enough to have gray hair. That put him over 150, anyway. Jim studied the wizened face for resemblances to Old Spock. Apart from a superficial similarity, there wasn't much. Where Old Spock had radiated wisdom and compassion, even humor, Stimm was simply stern. His dark eyes glowered unsmilingly out of a gaunt face.

Still, the appearance of age demanded respect. "Thank you," Jim said.

Stimm was unmoved. "Do all humans have such difficulty abiding by their agreements?"

Respect flew out the window. "I don't have any difficulty abiding by my agreements!" Jim snapped. "It's just that I don't understand what's going on."

"It is of no concern to out-worlders."

"Spock isn't an out-worlder. It's not right for you to exclude him from this _kashek-shoret wak_, whatever it is."

"The son of Sarek has other commitments."

_Sarek_. A light went on in Jim's head. "Is Sarek presently at the colony?"

Stimm hesitated. "Yes."

"Well, put him on. I'm sure _he'll_ want to see Spock."

"Sarek is... indisposed."

"What you mean, 'indisposed'?"

Stimm's eyes flickered. "Perhaps you would care to brush up on your basic vocabulary, Captain."

Jim's jaw clenched. "If he's unwell, I'd like to know about it."

"Sarek is not available for communication at this time," Stimm answered smoothly.

"I'd rather hear that from him, if you don't mind."

"Captain," Spock interrupted softly.

Jim turned toward him immediately. "Yes, Spock."

"There is no need to pursue this communication. If you will only allow me to transmit—"

"Don't you want to say hello to your father?"

Something glimmered behind Spock's eyes, twin to the tension in his body. Jim was suddenly struck by how human he looked in contrast to the full Vulcan on the screen. "My father is indisposed."

Again with the common phraseology. Jim should write a book about these guys. "Because of the _kashek-shoret wak_?"

Spock barely nodded.

"Indisposed how?"

Spock hesitated. "I cannot precisely say."

Jim was getting a headache. "Let's try this a different way: do you _want_ to beam down?"

For a split second, Spock's internal conflict was clear to see. Then his emotion retreated behind his habitual impassive mask. "I am content to remain here."

Jim pressed harder. "But you'd _rather_ go down there."

Spock held his gaze, as if by will alone he could make Jim understand. "Captain, I have already made my choice to stay aboard the _Enterprise_."

Jim felt a flash of alarm. "So, if you beamed down, you'd have to stay there?"

"No, Captain."

He was lost again, and frustrated. "Then what's the big deal?"

"It is not a 'big deal'. I will simply not participate in the _kashek-shoret wak_."

"Even though _everybody_ else is—including your father."

"He is free to make his choice, as I must make mine."

"It doesn't sound like much of a choice, if they won't even let you beam down."

"They have the right to protect themselves."

"From _you_?" Jim held Spock's gaze. "How much of a danger can you be?"

Stimm interrupted. "Sufficient that we will intervene if Spock attempts to transport down."

Jim turned back to the screen. "Intervene how?"

"In the traditional manner."

Jim didn't even want to guess what that was. It made his skin crawl just to speculate. Instead, he demanded, "How many other Vulcans have been asked to stay away?"

Stimm's gaze flickered. "That is not important."

"The hell it's not. How many?"

Stimm answered grudgingly, "All other survivors of the Vulcan massacre are here."

Jim smacked the arm of his chair, then leveled a finger at the viewscreen. "I knew it. I smelled a rat and, Stimm, you're it. How come Spock and Spock alone is forbidden to come to your precious _kashek-shoret wak_?"

Spock again attempted to intervene. "Captain—"

"No, Spock, I want him to answer me." Jim glared at the screen. "Well?"

Jim had met his match in steely gazes. Stimm's look would stop a rhino. "It was judged that Spock's contribution would be... undesirable."

"Undesirable." The word felt as distasteful on Jim's tongue as the meaning implied. "How can Spock be 'undesirable'? That's fine, you don't have to answer. You've already intimated why he's not welcome, when you gave your reason for not letting him beam down." Jim met Stimm's gaze with pure loathing. "You don't want Spock there because he's half human. Isn't that it?"

Stimm paused. "The integrity of our race—"

Jim slapped the arm of his chair again. "That's it. I don't believe it." Jim paced a couple of times in sheer agitation. "Elder Stimm, do you have any idea how repellent, not to mention old-fashioned, that statement is?"

"The inherent abilities—"

"Oh, _abilities!_ You want to talk abilities. Fine, let's talk about them. Back when there were a lot of Vulcans running around— just a few years ago, in fact— this particular half-Vulcan was offered a place at your Science Academy." Jim slanted a look at the screen. "Out of the total population of Vulcan, Stimm, what percentage is actually selected to attend the Academy?"

Stimm hesitated. Over Jim's shoulder, Spock said softly, "0.00657 percent."

Jim smiled, still holding Stimm's gaze. "Wow, that's a pretty low figure. And that comes from a time when there were thousands of full-blooded Vulcans competing for the same few spots. Hmm." He made a pretense of considering the problem. "It sounds as if there might be some _ability_ there to me, don't you think?"

Stimm's look increased in iciness, if that were possible. "It is not merely the potential, but what one chooses to do with it."

"Excellent point! Stimm, I'd like you to meet my First Officer. Elder Stimm, this is Commander Spock. Spock, Stimm. Elder, you might have heard something about Spock. He's the guy who, oh, _saved Earth_ recently. Not to mention all of the Elders who made it off Vulcan at the last minute. And I don't suppose you're much interested in the fact that he was the person most directly responsible for stopping Nero, which he did pretty much single-handedly, by the way." Jim smirked insolently at the screen. "Well, Elder?"

Stimm's composure could teach granite a lesson. He continued calmly, after barely a pause, "It is what one chooses to do with his inborn potential that concerns me. As you are aware of so many things, you are doubtless aware that Spock chose _not_ to attend the Vulcan Science Academy, despite his acceptance there. He has chosen a human lifestyle in a predominantly human environment—"

"Whoa! Hang on, Stimm. If you think Spock follows a human lifestyle, you know nothing at all about Spock."

"I know sufficient for our purposes."

"This is going nowhere fast." Jim sighed. "Okay, Stimm, here's the deal: you let Spock beam down to participate to whatever degree he wishes in the _kashek-shoret wak_, and I'll beam down your artifacts. No Spock, no precious Vulcan objects."

Stimm's look hardened. Before he could speak, Spock interjected, "Captain, you do not have the authority to withhold delivery of these items. They belong to the Vulcan people."

Jim waved his hand. "Well, _you're_ a Vulcan person. I give them to you."

"Captain—"

"What's it going to be, Stimm?" Jim asked the image on the screen. "Are you going to compromise, or wave bye-bye to thousands of years of Vulcan history?"

Stimm was unruffled. "Captain Kirk, your threats are meaningless. You must know that Starfleet would relieve you of your command if you failed to execute your commission. However, you can still injure us if you insist upon beaming Commander Spock to the surface. If—"

"_Injure_ you!"

"If you insist upon following such a course of action, we will have no alternative but to declare Spock _sashasolausu_."

Behind Jim, Uhura gasped. But Jim, being innocent of the Vulcan language, was still in the dark. "What does that mean?"

A silence hung over the bridge.

Then Spock answered composedly. "It means that I will be barred from New Vulcan forever. If I were ever to set foot upon the colony's soil, they would have the right to place me in solitary confinement, and hold me there for the rest of my life."


	4. Rigid Thinking

Jim stared at Spock in the wake of his startling announcement, delivered in the precise tones of Vulcan composure.

For a moment Jim was absolutely speechless, then he raised a forefinger toward the main viewscreen. "Stimm, let me get back to you."

Stimm gave one of those condescending Vulcan nods that appeared both gracious and sarcastic, before Uhura closed the channel.

Jim turned questioningly toward Spock.

His First Officer looked uncannily serene for someone who had just been threatened with life imprisonment. He peered down at Jim and said mildly, "The situation would not have degenerated to this state, Captain, if you had simply allowed me to transmit my detailed notes."

"Damn it, Spock!" Jim strode back and forth behind his chair. "Not every situation in the universe can be solved by detailed notes!"

"Perhaps not. But in this particular case, Space Central _was_ standing by to receive my transmission."

"That's not the point. The issue is that they're dissing you."

"'Dissing', Captain?"

"Those people at Space Central. The whole planet! Dropping the communications channel, refusing to let you beam down." Jim paced agitatedly. "I won't have anyone dissing my First Officer!"

"Captain, you are creating a situation where none previously existed."

"Don't try to be patient with me, Spock. It will only annoy me."

Spock, about to speak, closed his mouth.

"Listen." Jim whirled to face him, and started ticking points off his finger. "Starfleet exists— why?" Before Spock could reply, Jim said, "To explore new worlds! To seek out new lifeforms."

Spock looked bewildered. "I am familiar with Starfleet's mission statement, Captain."

"Right. So doesn't it seem a giant leap _backward_ to you to be rejected by your own people because of some snotty, out-dated attitude regarding your mixed heritage?"

"They are not rejecting me, Captain."

"They're not letting you go to _kashek-shoret wak_, like every other surviving Vulcan! They'd rather lock you up forever than let you attend." Jim tried to master his emotion. "I don't know about you, Spock, but that looks to me like a pretty serious snub."

"Captain," Uhura interrupted softly. "Perhaps it would help us to better understand the situation if we knew what _kashek-shoret wak_ actually was."

Jim looked at her, surprised. "What is it?" All Spock had told them about it earlier was that it was a "Vulcan thing"— hardly illuminating. Still, Spock might have explained it to Uhura privately at some point.

Apparently not. In answer to Jim's question, Uhura looked at Spock, who hesitated.

"And don't tell me it's a 'Vulcan thing'," Jim warned.

"It is," Spock answered.

"_Real_ information, Spock. I would appreciate some _real_ information at this point."

"It is... difficult to explain."

Jim's head was beginning to pound. He rubbed his forehead. "It's another secret, isn't it?" He lifted his head to cry to the ceiling, "Why is it that everything about Vulcan society has to be a freaking secret?"

"Vulcans are naturally private."

"You guys take privacy to a whole other level, you know that, Spock?" Jim heaved a sigh. "Okay, fine. I can't berate you for following your personal tenets, or I would be just as hypocritical as Stimm, there. But would you mind having a private conversation about this with me, so I don't end up alienating an entire race of people for no reason?"

It said something about Spock's reserve that he actually considered this proposal before responding, "As you wish, Captain."

"We'll be in Briefing Room One." Jim turned toward the rear exit. "Mr. Sulu, you have the conn."

"Aye, sir."

Jim caught a glimpse of Uhura's face as he left the bridge. His communications officer was following their departure with compassionate sadness, and no doubt a little bit of envy. As close as Spock and Uhura were, it was evident that his First Officer chose to keep a number of issues from her. Jim hoped she wouldn't resent him too deeply for using his command privilege to pry the truth out of Spock—even though this simple mission was rapidly turning into a potentially serious incident. Spock followed silently, so Jim was unable to see if he deigned to give his girlfriend an encouraging look. Knowing Spock, he might have just walked on by.

Neither of them spoke until they were safely in the briefing room with the door closed. Jim was agitated from adrenaline and umbrage on Spock's behalf. Spock appeared calm, but Jim was beginning to learn that Spock's appearance was often deceiving.

Striving to sound composed, Jim waved toward a chair. "Have a seat."

"I prefer to stand."

"Spock, I— Fine. Stand." Jim passed a hand through his hair. "So. New Vulcan."

"Yes, Captain."

"How badly am I screwing up?"

Spock arched a brow. "You are screwing up excellently."

Jim actually laughed. The situation couldn't be _so_ terrible if Spock could crack a joke—could it? Jim wondered if he'd ever heard Spock joke before; he was more of the sneering, smirking type. But Uhura was clever; she wouldn't put up with a dullard. Jim found himself wondering how often she and Spock joked together, and what the subject might be—then roughly brought his thoughts back to the issue at hand. He couldn't afford a distraction right now.

Jim pulled out a chair. "Well, _I'm_ going to sit." He did so, slumping forward to rest his elbows on his knees, rubbing his face. If this debacle was any indication of how his Starfleet career might turn out, he was in for one short stint as captain.

Jim looked up to see Spock seating himself in a chair across from him. Apparently Jim's humility had won a concession from the straight-laced commander. The Vulcan moved precisely as a cat, with something of a cat's fastidiousness. But his decision to sit was heartening. Jim could get through this, if he didn't have Spock as an enemy.

Jim met his First Officer's eye. "Well, you know _my_ theory about New Vulcan's motivation. Perhaps now you can tell me the _real_ reason why they won't let you attend their _kashek-shoret wak_."

Spock's gaze was steady. "There is no need for me to do so."

"Spock, I'm not going to stumble across the truth unless—" Jim stopped. "I was _right_?"

"Yes, Captain."

Jim felt his jaw slackening. "They aren't letting you go because you're half _human_?"

Spock simply looked at him.

"Those _bastards!_" Jim smacked his fist on the table and sprang from his chair. He began pacing to and fro. "I thought I was imagining things..."

"Jim, I appreciate your concern on my behalf, but your display of emotion is unnecessary."

"No, it's necessary, Spock. Boy, is it necessary." Jim shook out his hands, trying to release the tension. He was actually trembling from rage. "I don't know how it was on Vulcan, but we Earthlings have a rather spotty record when it comes to treating each other fairly. A snub like this cuts right to the core." Jim stopped and faced Spock. "Does Sarek know they don't want you?"

Spock met his gaze steadily ."Yes."

"Hell, Spock!" Jim jolted forward again. "Your own dad. Doesn't that _bother_ you?"

"Considering that it was part of the agreement I made when I chose to continue in Starfleet, no, it does not."

Jim stood still. "Agreement?"

"With my counterpart. The other Spock."

Jim froze. His pulse beat loudly in his ears. "You know about him?" His voice was hushed.

"Yes."

Jim sat heavily. His mind was in a whirl. _How much does Spock know?_ was uppermost in his thoughts. But he couldn't give voice to those concerns just now. Weakly, he asked, "When did you find out?"

"Shortly before the _Enterprise_ departed Earth. It was he who urged me to keep my commission."

"I see." Jim felt dizzy. "He told me... he told me the universe would explode if I told you about him."

Spock cocked his head. "Did he use those exact words?"

"No, but, he made perfectly clear..." Unsteadily, Jim met Spock's gaze. The Vulcan's eyes were twinkling. "He lied."

"He implied," corrected Spock.

"That sly bastard," Jim breathed, with more wonder than rebuke.

"It was he who told me that I could, in a manner of speaking, be two places at once. He was to take my place on the colony, so that I could continue my duties here."

"That cunning, sneaky bastard," Jim murmured, his admiration increasing. "And you agreed to that?"

"Yes."

Jim thought furiously. "Do they know? On New Vulcan?"

Spock appeared to consider. "It is a closely held secret—"

"I would expect nothing less from a group of Vulcans," Jim said sarcastically.

"—confined to a few of the Elders. But his genetics will be discovered in time."

"And then everyone in this timeline will know that there are two of you?"

"I hope that knowledge will be contained among the few who need to know."

"Is Stimm one of the few who knows that the other Spock, the other you, is on the planet?"

"I do not believe Elder Stimm has been briefed on the situation. He was not among those who assisted my counterpart in establishing an alternate identity."

Jim felt his initial outrage creep back. "So he's _still_ barring you because of your human blood. He doesn't realize there's another Spock already there to participate in your place."

"That is correct."

"That stinks!" Jim balled his fist. "We're right back to where we started."

"Not precisely. For now you understand why I am content—"

"Don't give me 'content', Spock. I saw your face when I asked if you'd like to go down there. This is tough for you. Don't try to pretend that it isn't."

Slowly, Spock rose and faced away from Jim. His sudden attempt at self-control had an oddly soothing effect on Jim. Quietly, he rose as well. Taking a step closer, he said to Spock's back, "What's going on down there, Spock?"

"I did not anticipate this," Spock responded thoughtfully. "When the agreement was made, I did not know that _kashek-shoret wak_ would occur."

Jim's gaze bored into the back of Spock's head. "Can you tell me what that is? ...Please?"


	5. Surak's Way

Spock began to pace—slowly, meditatively. He did not meet Jim's eyes. "You know our history—ancient history."

"On Vulcan, you mean?" With Spock, it wasn't always clear which half of his heritage he was speaking about.

Spock nodded. "Surak was the visionary, the seer who realized that the only way our people would survive would be to follow the path of logic, and thereby achieve peace." Spock gave Jim a rueful look. "There were many dissenters."

Jim nodded. He knew enough about Vulcan history to know that their search for peace had taken many decades and cost many lives.

"It became important to know who was of like mind—who would support Surak and his adherents in their quest, and who would betray us."

The _us_ hit Jim viscerally. This was Spock at his core, the man stripped down. Undoubtedly this was how he saw himself: the voice in the wilderness striving against all odds to make the world a better place—whether the world noticed or not. The poignancy of it hit Jim hard.

"They gathered," Spock continued, eyes far away, "in _Ku-li Run-tor Rok_, the Valley of Hopes and Dreams."

Jim said softly, "I don't normally associate Vulcans with hope."

"We were an emotional people then. The name was appropriate. Afterwards the valley came to be known as _Kro'el Fa-wak_, the Way of the Future. But then—hope drew my people like a magnet, all those who were weary of war, and determined to find a better way. Among the assembled were many who believed in the possibility of peace—as well as some who had other concerns."

"Spies?"

"Traditionalists, who still held to the old values."

"Kill or be killed," Jim supplied.

Spock's gaze softened marginally. "Mostly 'kill'," he amended.

Jim smiled. For the first time, he felt a real connection between them.

"When they were gathered," Spock continued in his soft voice, "something unusual occurred. You are aware that all Vulcans are telepathic to some degree; so we were even then. Surak began to speak, to outline his vision—and those who were listening also began to imagine this future, this place of peace and self-realization. The envisioning grew so powerful that it became a thing in itself: a link from mind to mind to mind, like an energy field or spirit that lay across the assembly. In that altered state, minds were laid bare. Everyone was aware of the consciousness of each of the others—a thing that is normally the case only within a bonded pair. But here it united the group, the assembly, this horde of six thousand who had left their own lands to come, all unknowing, to their place of enlightenment. It was an experience that changed our race forever."

Jim felt awestruck. "That is _kashek-shoret wak_?"

"Yes. The coming together of like minds." Spock's eyes were contemplative. "Before New Vulcan sent their warning message to the _Enterprise_, I had always supposed this part of the tale to be exaggerated, perhaps even a myth. But it is apparently true. The Vulcans have come together again, all who remain—bonding, sharing, once more coalescing into a single people."

Jim's resentment stirred. "But you're excluded from this rejoining. Why?"

Spock shifted so that he was facing Jim at the most oblique of angles—no doubt to avoid his gaze. "I have spoken of the bond within mated pairs. Many, many survivors have lost their bondmates in the destruction of Vulcan. During this time, when hearts and minds are open to one another, bonds can easily and deeply form. So it was at _Kro'el Fa-wak_, and so I believe will be true today. They say that the bonds formed during that time were of extraordinary strength and durability. Also... fertility."

Spock looked at the floor—and Jim followed suit, embarrassed on his friend's behalf. Spock murmured, "There was a reason Surak's movement grew so quickly, Captain. It was not merely the compelling nature of his arguments that caused the swelling of his ranks."

"I see. Within his ranks, there was... a swelling within his ranks."

"Yes. That is why Space Central dropped the connection so quickly. The operator must have been unbonded. If she were to hear the voice of an unbonded Vulcan male, there was a possibility that..." He trailed off.

Jim's jaw slackened. "You mean, she could have fallen in love with you over the comm link?"

"Vulcans do not fall in love. But she was unbonded during a time of _kashek-shoret wak_. That means it must have been difficult for her to find a suitable mate. She might not have been able to prevent herself from reaching out."

"To you."

"To anyone—including me, but only because I happened to cross her path."

Jim shifted, trying to absorb it all. "I suppose a sudden bonding on your part wouldn't fly too well with Uhura. But from New Vulcan's side, I guess I still don't understand the problem. If you were a suitable match for this lady—"

"The Elders would not condemn her to a match with me. Leaving aside the fact that I had chosen to put my career in Starfleet ahead of the needs of our people—for that is how the colonists on New Vulcan will view it—there remains the issue of my mixed blood. My hybrid nature has yet to be tested for virility. And New Vulcan needs every... _new_ Vulcan it can get."

"I see." Jim was taken aback by Spock's frankness. "Can't you... be tested, or something? So you'd know?"

"No such test exists. In Vulcan biology, the viability of the sex genes depends as much upon the intensity of the mental bond as it does upon the physical capabilities of the contributing partners."

"Meaning you can't procreate without a bond?"

"Such events have occurred, but they are unusual. That is why so much emphasis is placed upon finding a compatible mate. Our mental processes are so much a part of us, we are dependent upon a deep mental link to perpetuate ourselves."

"Wow." Jim knew he was prying, but couldn't resist. "So, um, your mom and dad... They had a deep mental link?"

"I assume they did. But, in my case, modern medicine also played a role in establishing a viable gamete. I would have remained no more than a twinkle in my mother's eye, had my father not availed himself of our finest geneticists."

"I see." Jim had learned enough. It was unlikely the new colony had the resources to deal with the complex issues of bringing a mixed-species embryo into the world. Irrevocably bonding a viable female to an unproductive male was a risk they couldn't afford to take, not when every life was so precious. Spock's very existence was a luxury of the past.

Jim thought a little further, and then said, "So, what about Old Spock? The alternate you? Won't he have the same problem, if one exists?"

"It is an interesting test case," Spock said lightly, as if he had no personal stake in the matter at all. "Perhaps his Vulcan genes will prove to be compatible enough with his partner's that no intervention will be necessary."

Jim was startled. "Is that possible?"

"The geneticists endeavored to make it so, although their success remains to be put to the test. Despite their efforts, however, and considering my counterpart's age, it is equally probable that he and his bondmate— assuming he does bond, which is likely under these conditions— will be unable to conceive any offspring. But I do not consider the issue of procreation as the most important factor in my counterpart's bonding."

"No?"

"No. The Vulcan part of my genetics is derived exclusively from my father. He also is present on the planet, and will doubtless form a new bond, if one has not been created already." Spock's voice did not catch as he said the words, but Jim didn't need that verbal clue to realize what Spock was saying, or what it must mean to him. Barely six months ago, the destruction of Vulcan had claimed the life of Spock's mother. Jim had been in the transporter room to see him arrive, empty-handed, after his desperate rescue attempt. The tragic look on Spock's face would be imprinted upon Jim's memory to the end of his days.

"Sarek's line will continue," Spock went on without pause. "But my counterpart... Friendships aside, he has spent his life alone. Whether because of his unique physiology or his hybrid disposition, he never formed an enduring bond. All his life, he has been an outsider among humans and Vulcans alike. Here, at last, is an opportunity to change that. Through _kashek-shoret wak_, he may become, for the first time in his long years, a full member of a community. Can you imagine, after all this time, what such an experience must mean to him? What a relief it must be, to join fully with someone at last?"

Jim found it difficult to speak. Surely Elder Spock's unique dilemma applied equally to the man sitting in front of him. Jim said tentatively, "What about you? Don't you deserve the same opportunity to become part of a community?"

"That is not an option. New Vulcan does not want me, for the logical reasons I have stated. Were I to attempt to defy them and beam down anyway, I would immediately be placed in solitary confinement— the purpose being to discourage my forming a bond with anyone, as you now know."

"But you deserve to be part of this, too. Spock, it's thanks to you that Nero isn't still on the loose, using advanced technology to obliterate still more worlds and any remnants of the Vulcan race that he can track down. Hell, you were the one who rescued most of the Elders who are now forbidding you to beam down!"

"Their position is logical, and I support it." Spock met Jim's gaze. "Consider, Jim: I could not have my life here, and also take my place on the colony. So their resistance is to my benefit—is it not so?"

Jim chewed that over. "I still don't like the snubbing aspect..."

"It seems a hard choice—and so it was. But I stand by my actions. And perhaps, one day, my counterpart will choose to share his experience with me."

"Through a meld?" Jim's own memories of a mind meld were disturbing, but perhaps it was different for Vulcans. "Will that be the same as going through it yourself?"

"Being deprived of first-hand experience, I shall never know. But I suspect that he will offer it, if he deems the experience to be of benefit to me."

Jim let out a heavy breath. "Well, Spock, I wish I'd know all this earlier."

"Perhaps in time you will come to trust that there is a logical motivation for all that I do."

"Spock, you can't possibly expect me to swallow such a ridiculous remark as that. I'm getting to know you too well."

"I see that the time of trust is not yet here."

"Besides, you can't deny that I came pretty close to the truth, stumbling along in my own illogical human way."

"You also came close to alienating one of the founding races of the Federation. That is the recklessness of relying on one's intuition."

Jim was annoyed. "Spock, I _live_ by my intuition."

"So I have observed. I have also observed that, while your impulses frequently land you in 'hot water', thus far you have always managed to extricate yourself. That is quite a feat, Captain. I would be inclined to disbelieve your astonishing success rate were I not a repeated witness of it myself."

Jim gave him a wry smile. "I wouldn't count what I did today as one of my successes."

"Perhaps not. But you rightly sensed my uncertainty regarding my decision to remain aboard, and forced me to confront those conflicting desires. So your outburst must be considered a gain—at least, as it concerns myself. What the Vulcan Council will think of your behavior is another matter."

"I suppose I ought to apologize."

"That would be wise."

"But their attitude still galls me. It seems unfair for them to shut you out, considering all you've done."

"What would you prefer? That I join in the _kashek-shoret wak_, and perhaps form an ineradicable bond with a woman I do not know, and care nothing about? Would that be your solution?"

Jim opened his mouth, then grinned. "I think I know a certain lady who would beat me to a pulp if I were to propose that course of action."

"Then perhaps we would do better to leave matters as they stand. In many ways, I _have_ chosen the human path, as Stimm said. It is my own will that has led to this development."

"On _your_ side, perhaps. But New Vulcan provoked this whole incident by objecting to your genetics."

"Their logic required them to do so. But, as for my genetics, I would not change that if I could."

Jim looked away, knowing that Spock was speaking of his mother.

After a few seconds, Jim sighed. "You're a better man than the people who are rejecting you. I hope you realize that."

"That is illogical. Each of us has our unique gifts. Mine, on balance, can be no better than anyone else's."

Jim puffed a laugh and shook his head. He still felt uneasy with young Spock compared to the older version, but he finally had the impression that they would one day turn out to be the same person, or close enough. This Spock was comparatively unrefined, but there was no question he had developed the beginning of wisdom. If Jim were wise, he'd start taking advantage of that.

He collected his thoughts. "So, Commander. What do you propose we do about New Vulcan?"

Spock raised a brow. "I suggest, after making your apology, that you allow me to transmit my detailed notes."

Jim narrowed his eyes. "I'm never going to hear the end of these notes, am I?"

"I trust that the point has been made."

"All right, Spock. Once more unto the breach..."


	6. Kirk's Concession

Jim felt all eyes upon him as he entered the bridge, Spock again at his heels.

"Open a channel to Space Central, Lieutenant," he told Uhura smoothly as he passed.

She turned to do as he asked, although Jim could tell she was burning with curiosity. Oh, well, a little suspense built character. As Spock resumed his station, Jim stepped down into the well beside his command chair.

"I have Elder Stimm on channel one," Uhura reported.

"Put him on."

The stoic image appeared on the forward screen.

"Elder Stimm. Please forgive the lengthy interruption. I know you must have many demands on your time, and I appreciate your patience."

Grim-faced, Stimm nodded, but did not speak.

"Regarding our recent misunderstanding: as you know, Commander Spock honors Vulcan tradition even above his Starfleet duties. He did not volunteer any information about the event currently taking place on your colony until circumstances forced him to speak. I would like to reassure you, and him, that I will keep the information he conveyed to me strictly confidential."

He heard the sighs of disappointment all around him. In the course of their duties, his officers were used to having their wishes put on hold. The Vulcans, however, were another matter.

Stimm's voice was cold. "I welcome your forbearance, Captain."

"Thanks." This conversation was like slogging through mud. Jim ploughed on. "Now that I have a fuller understanding of the situation, I realize that I probably overstepped my bounds in insisting that Commander Spock participate in the _kashek-shoret wak_. I hope you understand that I was motivated solely by a sense of justice. I felt that one of my crew— one of your citizens— was being treated unfairly. However, Commander Spock has helped me to understand the logic of the situation. I hope that you will be gracious enough to overlook my previous uninformed remarks, and accept my sincere apologies for escalating the situation beyond what should have been a routine transaction. I have the highest respect and sympathy for the Vulcan people. It was not my intention to give any offense."

Stimm's expression thawed a degree or two, although he still looked wary. "I appreciate your explanation, Captain Kirk. It is true that Vulcans are reluctant to discuss matters of a personal nature. It is regrettable that you did not conclude that logic must be involved much sooner."

"That was my mistake, Elder. I regret my lapse in judgment, and trust that you will attribute it to well-meaning intentions, rather than malice."

"Be at ease, Kirk. Your intentions were clear."

Jim felt everyone on the bridge shooting looks at him, puzzling over his change of tune. But Jim had done his best to repair the damage his earlier outburst might have done to his relations with the colony. Stimm would either accept his apology or hold a grudge. Whichever course he took, Jim felt he'd given it his best shot, and the matter was now out of his hands.

He resumed the conversation briskly. "We are ready to commence the transport operation. Is your ground facility ready?"

"It is."

Stimm seemed to relax a little over this return to business. Good. Give Vulcans an occupation; that always made them happier.

"As you know, my First Officer has documented some vital handling instructions. With your permission, I'd like to transmit those recommendations now."

Stimm barely bowed his head. "You may proceed."

"Thank you, Elder." Jim turned. "Mr. Spock?"

"Transmitting now, Captain." Spock's tone was neutral, but Jim could guess at his relief.

"We will beam down the artifacts in lots," Jim continued. "My First Officer has indicated the delivery order in his file."

"We will review the transfer sequence prior to reception," Stimm answered.

"Fine. It will take the commander about ten minutes to get down to our cargo bay. Of course, he'll personally supervise the transaction from our end."

Stimm looked down his nose in his superior Vulcan way. "Commander Spock's contribution in this regard is acceptable. I do not anticipate that there will be any problems now." The emphasis on the word _now_ was slight, but detectable.

"I sincerely hope not," Jim replied. "To that end, Elder, might I recommend that you carefully consider who gains access to Commander Spock's file."

Stimm's eyebrows fractionally narrowed. "Is the information so sensitive?"

"Not the information, Elder. But my First Officer dictated the handling precautions himself. You may want to limit contact to prevent... susceptible parties from hearing his voice, and responding to his innately superior qualities. I'm not convinced that a standard orbit will provide sufficient distance to ensure the safety of your more vulnerable citizens."

Stimm went absolutely still. Jim wondered if it were possible for a Vulcan to explode from suppressed indignation.

"I assure you, Captain," Stimm said stiffly, "we will take all necessary precautions."

"I'm delighted to hear it. We'll signal you in a few minutes."

"Space Central, out." Stimm's image vanished.

Jim growled and pumped his fist in the air. "_Score!_" He grinned at the empty viewscreen. "Take that, you bigot!"

Jim looked around to see everyone on the bridge staring at him in utter amazement— except for Spock, who looked grim.

Jim tried to appear contrite, but knew he was failing. "Hey, Spock, relax. I was _mostly_ nice, wasn't I?"

Spock said carefully, "I do not believe your final precautionary advice will ingratiate you with Elder Stimm, Captain."

"Perhaps not. But it gave me _tons_ of satisfaction to say it, which I expect will continue to pay dividends throughout the day."

"Such provocation seems a short-sighted approach."

"Aw, he deserved it! Besides, it's not like he's going to complain."

"But..." Chekov appeared bowled over by Jim's little ploy. "Vhat if he does? He looked angry."

"That's exactly why he won't say a word. If Stimm complains to Starfleet Command about me, everyone will know that I managed to tick off a Vulcan— and what self-respecting Vulcan wants to admit that a mere human got his goat?"

"The issue here is one of protocol," Spock countered. "Not emotion."

"Pull on the other one," Jim said. "I know perfectly well that Vulcans have emotions. It's just that you guys like to control them. But you might say that I have a knack for breaking the unbreakable control. Consider it a hobby."

"A _dangerous_ hobby," Uhura muttered from her station. From her rigid posture, Jim could tell she was not at all pleased with the conversation.

Jim chose to take offense. "Why is everyone pretending that what I said is so outrageous?"

"Because it was?" Sulu ventured.

"Come on! You _know_ that Vulcans have feelings. Most of you have had at least one first-hand demonstration yourselves."

Spock could not overlook such a direct reference to their tumultuous early encounter. He said firmly, "I suggest that you not consider my lapse to be indicative of Vulcan behavior in general. Such an extrapolation is unwarranted."

"Spock, buddy, you're as Vulcan as they come. Which is 90 percent of the reason why I want to punch Stimm there right in the face."

"I am _not_ as Vulcan as they come. I am half human."

"The effect of which upon your behavior is precisely zip."

"I doubt you would find many Vulcans who would agree with you."

"That's what this whole argument has been about, Spock! They're attributing behaviors to you that exist solely in their heads! Look—" Jim leaned against the back of his command chair with his arms crossed, to face Spock more fully. "When you were planning to take the _Jellyfish_ into a death dive onto the _Narada_, you knew the odds were against you. But there wasn't one tiny inkling of that in your face. You might as well have been heading off to one of your xenolinguistics lectures."

"There was nothing to be gained by an emotional display."

"But you _had_ to have been feeling emotion. In fact, I _know_ you were."

Suddenly Jim's mind swept back to his first encounter with Spock, at the disciplinary hearing. He stood sweating before the entire student body, as Spock reprimanded him for what Jim considered to be a creative solution to the no-win scenario of the _Kobayashi Maru_. The very intonations of Spock's voice remained clear in his memory, as Spock incisively explained the purpose of the test: _Fear in the face of certain death. To accept that fear and maintain control of oneself and one's crew. This is a quality expected in every Starfleet captain_.

The recollection hit home. Slowly, more to himself than to Spock, he murmured, "'Fear in the face of certain death.'" He looked up to meet Spock's dark eyes. "You felt that. You had to overcome it, yourself."

Spock said nothing, simply held his gaze.

Jim let out a heavy breath. "That's what you were trying to tell me, that first day."

Spock said softly, "Yes. That is what I was trying to tell you."

Jim sagged against the command chair. He felt drained, both from the prescience of Spock's words, and the release of his own tension. It took several heartbeats before he was able to lift his eyes, meeting Spock's steady look with a weak smile. "Okay, Professor. Thanks. I think I got it now."

Spock merely nodded. Yet Jim felt as if a major bridge had been crossed.

Profound as the moment was, the clock was running. Reluctantly, he pushed himself upright. "Well, enough Earth-shaking revelations. Come on, Spock. We have valuable Vulcan artifacts to beam down."

"Keptain?" Chekov interrupted timidly.

Jim turned back. "Yes, Mr. Chekov?"

The young navigator looked nervous. "I vas just vondering... vhat vas all this about... wulnerable parties?"

Jim cringed. It figures Chekov would latch onto that. Jim automatically looked at Spock, who gave him his patented "you yourself got into this mess and don't expect me to get you out of it" look.

"Well..." Jim suddenly noticed that everyone's attention was fixed on him. Uhura's stare was so intense she was practically sucking the breath out of his body.

"It's nothing. Just a Vulcan thing."

"It certainly got Elder Stimm's attention," Sulu remarked. Jim looked over to find the helmsman barely containing his smirk. _Thanks for nothing, Sulu_.

"Yes, well..." He looked again at Spock, who was doing his deadpan best to let Jim sink or swim on his own. Jim turned back toward Chekov. "It... sort of falls into the category of... things that might happen, under certain circumstances, when certain people... hear recordings of Mr. Spock's voice."

Chekov looked mystified. "Vhat things?"

Jim waved a hand. "You know, _things!_ Reactions!"

Chekov looked bewilderedly around the bridge. "Vhat people?"

"_Certain_ people!" He paused. "People who listen to recordings." Since Chekov obviously wasn't getting the reference, he added, "_Female_ people."

Out of the corner of his eye, Jim saw Uhura freeze.

Chekov's eyes grew large. He whispered, "_Kashek-shoret vak_ means dating?"

"No, it doesn't mean dating! They're Vulcans, for crying out loud."

"Vulcans who listen to recordings," Sulu drawled. He seemed to be enjoying Jim's predicament way too much.

"_Female_ Wulcans," Chekov breathed, looking terrified and fascinated at the same time.

"Right," Jim rushed on, while Spock studied the ceiling. "Some of them, on occasion, have certain... sensitivities."

Uhura's eyes were like ice. "And what sensitivities would _these_ be?"

Great. Now he had Uhura wanting to beam down to beat up the female population of the planet. Just when he thought he'd managed to head off a major interplanetary incident...

Jim tried to crawl out of the hole he had dug for himself. "Sensitivities to certain voices." His gaze mutely begged her for understanding. "You might recall, we had something of the same problem here."

Uhura was buying none of it. "Vulcans are logical above all, Captain. I can't imagine one of them reacting in the same way. Nor why Elder Stimm would consider it 'unsafe' if they did so."

"It's a special time, Lieutenant. They're... extra sensitive just now."

Chekov's eyes grew wide.

Uhura blazed on. "Commander Spock recorded simple handling instructions."

"Apparently, that's more than enough to set some people off," Jim reminded her.

Chekov whispered, "Are you saying that Wulcan women are susceptible to... routine communications?"

Sulu made a strangled noise that sounded suspiciously like a stifled laugh.

Jim lost his patience. "Why should that be surprising, Mr. Chekov? Think about it. If you were a lady Vulcan, and you heard Spock's sultry tones telling you to 'Stand by' or 'Commence transmission', you'd probably be a goner, too."

"That isn't funny, Captain," Uhura snapped.

"No, it's _great!_ Do you know how many human males would _kill_ to have that ability? But, you know Vulcans! They keep all the best secrets to themselves."

Spock deigned to come back from his little meditation. "Captain, you are grossly misrepresenting the situation."

"Am I? I suppose the regular Space Central operator cut off communications earlier because she had to wash her hair."

Uhura looked startled. Boy, were she and Spock going to have a conversation tonight.

Deliberately ignoring the possible repercussions, Jim shrugged. "Well, as I said, it's completely understandable. I suppose when you've got such a formidable force as our Science Officer on the other end of the line, it's no wonder the entire planet has to take extreme precautions."

"Captain," Spock said warningly.

Jim flung up his hands. "That's it, I'm done. As far as I'm concerned, if I never hear the phrase _kashek-shoret wak_ again, it will be too soon for me."

Spock looked uneasy. "I, too, would welcome an end to this conversation."

"Fine! Then let's go download some cargo. Mr. Sulu, you have the conn."

He proceeded smartly into the turbo lift, Spock at his heels. He waited until the door closed, then leaned heavily against the wall. After all the mistakes he'd made today, he wasn't sure whether to sigh or giggle hysterically.

Spock was still disturbed, which meant his posture was even more perfect than usual. "Captain, you came dangerously close to breaking your given word just now."

"Spock, it's _me!_ No one will ever believe _me_ about this voice business— with the possible exception of Chekov. Every adult member of this crew knows that I'm full of shit."

Spock studied his face intently, as if trying to divine his meaning. In many ways, he was very Vulcan. "Meaning, they will not believe you?"

"Meaning just that. No one is going to seriously think that that woman at Space Central was going to fall in love with you merely because of your voice... even though we had some pretty interesting trends in that direction while you were off on vacation."

Spock's eyebrows narrowed. "Trends, Captain?"

"Nope, nope, doesn't count." Jim reassessed his own example. "I think they were already a little in love with you to begin with. So it's not a fair comparison."

Spock ceased his questions and focused his attention on the far wall. Jim heaved an inward sigh. Knowing how Spock detested the subject of whether Ensign Mallory had had a crush on him or not, Jim knew an allusion to her was an effective way to silence him.

His thoughts soon wandered, and Jim smothered a laugh.

"Do you find something amusing, Captain?"

"I was just thinking what a shock it will be for the colony when Spock the Elder starts contributing a host of quarter-human Vulcanettes to the population."

Spock relaxed at the change in subject. "That would be an interesting development."

"I'm sure the old dog's got it in him. Just you wait. I bet his kids will beat the pants off the full-blooded variety."

Spock's expression was always hard to read, but Jim suspected the notion appealed to him. "It will be an intriguing experiment."

"It will indeed. But that's a victory we can savor another day. For now, we have our own work to do." The turbolift doors parted. Jim held out his hand. "Saviors of the world first."

"If you are referring to anyone who has helped to prevent the destruction of a planet, I suppose we should exit together."

Jim grinned. "I accept your qualification, Mr. Spock."

His First Officer merely nodded. Side by side, they exited the lift.


	7. What Remains

Jim stood in the hall outside his First Officer's quarters. He had waited four days since the delivery of the recovered artifacts to New Vulcan before deciding to make this visit. For one thing, it gave Spock and Uhura a chance to thoroughly discuss the events surrounding the _kashek-shoret wak_, argue, make up, have make-up sex, and return to normal. For another, well... some things couldn't be rushed.

He buzzed for entrance and then stood waiting, hands clasped behind his back in Spock's habitual pose.

The door slid open, and Spock stood revealed in the entrance.

"Am I interrupting anything?" Jim asked.

"No. You may enter."

Spock's room was as tidy and disciplined as the mind that had precisely arranged the various artifacts on the walls and shelves. The collection lent his quarters a brooding and exotic nature. Jim glanced at the shelf where Spock kept his meditation candles and incense burner. There was a spot, just there, that would be perfect. He hid his smile.

If Spock was curious, he covered it well. His expression was languid as he asked, "Is there something I can do for you, Captain?"

"Not really. I just wanted to give you this." And Jim held forth the item he'd been hiding behind his back.

It was a clear glass globe, smooth and unadorned, about the size of a teacup. Inside it, sealed within a xenon atmosphere, lay nearly a cup of fine powder, varying in hue from brown to tan to pink to red. Occasional bits of sand or stone were speckled randomly throughout.

Spock went absolutely still. Reverently, he took the globe from Jim. His gaze was intent and his eyes were black. He examined it, wonderingly.

"It's from the cargo bay," Jim explained. "After we beamed the consignment down, I sent in a squad of techs with micro-cleaners to sweep the floor, especially where the big statues had stood. Of course, we got a lot of garbage with the grit, so for the last three days the geological staff has been working around the clock, sifting the takings grain by grain. They even held a subspace consultation with the Geologic Association earlier this afternoon, to clarify some pieces that were in dispute. They finished just a couple of hours ago. What you're holding in your hand right now is pure Vulcan."

Spock slowly turned the globe in his hand, his eyes devouring it from every angle. His throat worked, but he didn't speak.

"It was the best-kept secret on the ship," Jim continued. "Scotty was terrified that one of his technicians would talk. Lumley had fits every time she passed you in the hall, fearing that you'd read her mind. Personally, I was worried that you'd notice the duty logs had been fudged. You run a very efficient ship, Mr. Spock. It's hard to get anything by you."

Spock could not take his gaze from the glass ball. He revolved it pensively between his fingers. "Thank you, Captain." His voice was thick.

Jim shuffled his feet. He enjoyed Vulcan baiting—it was almost his favorite sport, next to Uhura-baiting. But seeing this—Spock's raw emotions breaking forth from some deep-seated cause, rather than a superficial reaction to some momentary jest—was almost too intense for him to bear.

Jim cleared his throat. "They might be able to keep you off their colony, but they can't keep you from this. You are the possessor of what is probably the largest remaining piece of Vulcan in existence. I think—" Jim's voice caught, but he forced himself to go on. "I feel as if Survok would have wanted you to have it. I think he was guarding it for you all along."

Spock nodded. Slowly he turned, and approached the meditation shelf. He set the globe, just there—the very spot that Jim had noticed earlier. He remained still, staring at it, his back to Jim.

Suddenly Jim's throat became too tight for words. Giving Spock a silent salute, he let himself out the door.


End file.
